


cigarette

by La_Rata



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 23:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Rata/pseuds/La_Rata





	cigarette

I shuffle through the snow, focusing on one scoot at a time. To amuse myself I watch as the snow breaks and falls around my boot, powdery and white. My nose is running like a faucet and I can hardly feel the tips of my ears, but I couldn’t care less. The only thing I’m thinking of is going to see my short king. It helps that his two story cabin is warmer than my own home. And in his arms, if all goes accordingly? I’ll be toast. I grin to myself and chastise how soft I’ve become. I know that I would break even easier than the snow I so happily disrupt. I’ve forgotten what it is to be strong. My rifle hasn’t been touched, other than to be idly cleaned, in months. Let alone the last time I killed something larger than a doe.

Suddenly my coat feels heavier on my shoulders and my smile runs from my paled face. When was the last time I’d had venison? My favorite meat of all time – maybe even my favorite food? I let my eyes run up to the ceiling of the underground and I release a clouded sigh of discontent. I really let myself go in the arms of this man. I shake my head and look forwards, deciding I’ll just go hunting today and ask him if he’ll go with. I doubt he’ll be awake half the time, regardless of how cold it is. As long as he doesn’t snore, everything should be fine. I let myself grin again, but that familiar aching feeling arises deep within my heart. I want, no need something. I just don’t… 

Knocking on the door, I feel my blood begin to speed up. This won’t do me any good against the -20 degrees outside. I begin to lean back and forth between both feet anxiously, suddenly finding it more cold outside than I did before. After a moment the door opens and as we see each other, the strange aching feeling nulls to a low pulse. Still there, but easier to ignore as a feeling that everyone feels. I smile and go to enter the house, but he goes to close the door. I stop and give him a confused look. He puts a boney finger to his mouth and says that his brother is asleep, don’t I know what time it is? I let out an “Oh.” That would explain why it’s so exceptionally cold. We stand in silence before I ask the vital question. The only question that matters. “Wanna go hunting?” He looks mildly surprised and doesn’t respond at first.

“I’ve got a bean bag in my post, up in a tree? You don’t really have to do anything but keep an eye out.” I reprimand myself for sounding too desperate, but to my thankfulness he agrees and says he just needs his jacket. It was then when I realized he was only in a t-shirt, boxers and a singular sock. As he leaves me there with an agape door, I wonder why he dresses like the cold effects him. Maybe it is just a fashion thing. I lean on the wall next to the door as I wait, debating on whether or not I should bust out a cigarette. Just then, snow begins to slowly fall down from the sky. How? Why? Who cares, it’s kinda romantic. He appears back at the door in his full outfit, having just put on his slippers, another sock and his blue jacket.

I motion for him to follow me, and only then do I pull out my silver engraved lighter with a cigarette. He sends me a sideways look but doesn’t say anything. If he had lungs to damage I wouldn’t be so open about smoking around him, but I don’t smoke indoors or around monsters that do have lungs. And I go out of my way to bring a jar to and fro from my post to my house every now and then for the ashes. I lite the cigarette and pocket the lighter. After inhaling I immediately feel more lax than I did only a few minutes prior. I also can’t help but love the look of the glowing bud being surrounded by dozens of snowflakes falling around it. 

Smoke rises from me like a chimney, and soon enough we arrive at my house. I tell him I need to get my rifle, and head inside. He follows. I idly put the cigarette in my mouth as I sling the gun around my torso, then I give him a thumbs up. I notice his eyes roaming around the small one room house. I immediately think he’s comparing it to his house, but I don’t say anything. Neither does he. My house is something of a foxhole, or so that’s what I like to call it. Pushed back into the rim of the woods, where no one really pays much mind to it. I make my way past him outside, and as expected, he continues to follow me around.

Before we officially enter the woods I stop and turn to him, and ask, “Do you know your way around the woods?” He shakes his head and I look back through the trees ahead. After a moment I quickly remind him to just try not to get lost in the dark, cold, unfamiliar woods. He only responds in a low, tired voice, “You gotcha.” 

With this, we begin our trek through the darkness. I begin to monitor my breathing and do my best to actually see where I’m going. I shouldn’t have been so confident in my direction skills, I’d never been hunting at night. I’m not even aware that Sans is behind me when I feel a cold hand wrap itself around mine, and I jump. I quickly look back at him in surprise, my cigarette lightly illuminating his face. I turn my head away as soon as a blush runs across my face, and continue moving through the briar. I also couldn’t help the grin that crept onto my face. 

When we arrive at the post, Sans does a double take. He just stands there for a moment before he tells me he doesn’t see it. I let go of his hand and silently look at the trees. When my head turns to the tree with ladder steps, I make an “Oh.” I begin climbing them immediately. He takes a second to actually see the small orange light that is my cigarette, then make out my outline. Then he follows suite. By the time he’s made it up next to me on the post, he’s mildly winded. I only grin at him and when he finally looks at me, I point at the snow covered bean bag. Granted, the post is pretty high up this old oak tree. And I’d be lying if I said my bones didn’t kinda ache from the short hike.

We both get adjusted to an unknown amount of time that was going to be spent sitting up here doing damn near nothing. He falls onto the bean bag and quickly gets back up, only to begin dusting off the snow. When he sits back down, he can’t ignore how uncomfortable the cheap bean bag was. I was sitting cross legged, head just barely peeking over the wall. I was slouched and holding the cigarette with two fingers. In my other hand was a comic book that I found in the library. Their concept of superheros and villains was more interesting than ours, by a long shot. A comfortable silence creeps upon us for a multitude of minutes. 

Then I hear him get up, take a couple steps, then feel his weight push onto my back. I glance over my shoulder only to see him leaning up against my form, legs crossed and hands locked over his stomach. I open my mouth to object, only to hear snores erupt from his direction. They’re quiet enough. My face heats up and I feel a myself leaning back onto him, stabilizing the pressure. By now that aching feeling that had made itself known earlier was all but a memory. Wholesome.


End file.
